Walking into the sanctuary of St. Peter’s church in Klippan, in southern Sweden, is like entering a time machine. You have the sense of being transported to another age, but you’re not exactly sure which—it could be the future or some very distant past. The dimly lit worship space is at once modern and primitive, technologically advanced yet possessing the atmosphere of a pre-Christian pagan temple, with its clamshell baptismal font supported by metalwork that could be from the Bronze Age. In lieu of conventional windows, glass is clipped to the exterior wall in the crudest fashion, to preserve the interior’s cavelike character.
The church is as enigmatic as the man who designed it, Sigurd Lewerentz (1885–1975). A new book and exhibition (opening at Stockholm’s National Center for Architecture and Design, ArkDes, on October 1), both called Sigurd Lewerentz: Architect of Death and Life, seek to demystify this “architect’s architect” known primarily through two late-career churches. Lewerentz didn’t write much, which contributes to his shaman-like reputation, and his architecture has always presented a problem for historians because it defies easy categorization. This explains why much of the scholarship on his work has been written by architects, notably publications by Janne Ahlin (1987) and Wilfried Wang (1997). The latest, by ArkDes director Kieran Long, curator Johan Örn, and historian Mikael Andersson, is a somewhat less reverential account of Lewerentz that seeks to broaden the overall framing of his career and provide fresh insight into his legacy. No exercise in hagiography, it looks at the architect’s professional life with a sober detachment, exploding some of the myths surrounding this figure of cultlike devotion and providing a fuller picture beyond the caricature of a cigar-chomping loner who designed idiosyncratic churches.
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